


Warm Engines

by Harebourg



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-06-03 23:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6631966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harebourg/pseuds/Harebourg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A light fluff fic about two survivalists preparing for the winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm Engines

**Author's Note:**

> An imported fanfic from long ago!

Winter came faster then expected. Thankfully, Wilson's designated survivor partner, WX-78 noticed the unnatural weather changes early enough to prepare as best they can.

WX-78 was surprising adept at weaving, at least much better then the scientist was, and was left with making clothes for winter. Wilson manages the agriculture, which is not exactly his forte, but nothing a bit of chemicals can't resolve. Making clothing was a task completed within a few days, giving WX-78 the time to help Wilson in hoarding food for the winter. Wilson could only barely tolerate the condescending-to-other-life-forms-such-as-himself robot during their hunts. It wasn't Wilson's fault he was built to hold test tubes instead of spears. It came to a point where Wilson has had just enough of the metal man's insults and simply stopped participating in game, instead investing his time for a better plant formula for growth. Even with the few drawbacks of Kranpus, 'which was no doubt the android's fault', Wilson told himself, and the hounds, they've stocked up enough to huddle down during the worst of winter. They just need to try to scrape on by on the lighter days.

It's now day 37, the winter has yet to grow to its prime and he's already freezing inside his own tent, regretting his decision of shaving before the winter was over. Wilson is normally tolerant of the cold with his puffy vest while inside his tent, the scientific machine would act as a heater, constantly working for Wilson's experiments. This night in particular will be ruthless to him.

Sitting on the desk he operates on, the scientist unrolls his sleeves and wraps with arms around himself. Lolling his head to the side and letting his mind drift to nullify the thoughts of the increasingly cold night, he wonders how the android is doing in his own tent nearby. Initially he doubted the robot would need much insulation until he complained that the nubs on the sides of his head stinging. Wilson took it to himself to make use of the bunnies in stock— not that they were very filling anyway— to craft a pair of earmuffs for WX-78. He wasn't able to convince the android to accept the crudely made headgear upfront, but after a bit of modifications for comfort (Since WX-78 is able to feel to some point), Wilson snuck behind WX-78 and placed the earmuffs on him, briefly adjusting them to fully cover the nubs. This was the first attempt of the forced acceptance of the item- Wilson fully expected him to turn around, toss the muffs he made an effort to make, and crank his volume up to max and make him deaf for the day. However, his hypothesis of the reaction was wrong, almost opposite of what he would've thought. WX-78 tilted his head slightly around, as if to see who placed the earmuffs on him, but he quickly reeled back and continued his previous action of sorting out the storage for materials.

Wilson was unsure if he was aware they were on him or not, but figured that WX-78 didn't care. "I can't b-believe I'm thinking about what that stupid a-automation is doing." Wilson slides off the table and searches for something to light up for warmth. With the low light from the scientific machine, Wilson tumbled over a few of his leftover bags of failed fertilizers, causing a chain reaction of his other glass containers to fall off of their shelves, creating noise that would no doubt get the attention of any creature wandering near their camp. Cursing to himself, he takes his bed off the floor and drags it with him back onto the table, too fatigued to be clean up or be angry. It's not possible to sleep without the gentle radiance of heat from the machine. Thinking about it, Wilson wonders how strong WX-78's internal heating system is to withstand the bitter cold.

Wilson lets out a tired sigh, watching the puff of white clouds escape into the air. Pulling his sleeping bag up, he scoots closer to the science machine and rubs his face into the pillow, hoping it would ease his slowly freezing frame. The scientist doesn't notice the sound of crunching snow making its way to his tent, occasionally snapping a twig that wasn't fully buried yet. He was able to hear the 'woosh' of his tent opening however, fully alerting him from a brief moment of peace. Coming into his tent was WX-78. He must've heard Wilson struggling with his trash and thought that he's finally blown himself up. Not wanting to deal with WX-78's criticism, Wilson sinks back into his pillow and attempts to resume from where he left off.

"FLESHING?" WX-78 scans over the broken glass and disarranged bags of dirt.

Wilson could feel the irritation though drowsiness rising. "Go b-back t-to your own tent, r-robot," Wilson mumbled into his pillow.

WX-78 stands in place, assessing the situation before commenting, "WILSON REQUIRES REBOOT." It was the first time Wilson heard WX-78 use the name of something.

"Yes, W-Wilson 'requires reboot'. T-that means WX-78 n-needs to lea—" Wilson was struck by an extremely warm presence that caresses his hair.

Tugging himself up, he sees WX-78's face plate in an extremely close proximity from his own face. The orange light given by his science machine glazes over the android to show a more regal gold color, emphasizing on his sharper edges, and the light vibrations from his internal heater. He still has the rabbit earmuffs, understandably worn down, but still taken care of. Wilson takes note of their position, WX-78 has his hands on the table on both sides of Wilson and his chassis right in the middle between the gap of his legs.

"Uh…" For once, Wilson is completely unsure what to do. He attempts to shift in his position, prodding for more room between himself and the android, but only manages to squeeze the torso of WX-78 with his legs.

WX-78 moves his hands closer to Wilson's legs, nearly touching them, gaining more altitude to thoroughly diagnose Wilson's current status.

"WILSON'S PELT IS CHIPPING." WX-78 lowers himself to be aligned with Wilson's head. "REQUIRES MOISTURE TO RECOVER. "Wilson pushes WX-78 away by his collar, not only annoyed with the bionic for talking that loud while being so close, and for just being a little too close. He did however feel the difference in temperatures when WX-78 was near.

"Well, you're not going to find much water when everything is frozen, WX-78. The most optimal thing we can do is to stay warm. "Wilson watches as WX-78 tilts his head slightly to the side and produces small clicks, a behavior Wilson has picked up on meaning that the AI is 'thinking'. He loosens his hug on his sleeping bag, letting sleep get the better of him.

"WX-78… I want to go to bed," Wilson slides down from the table, not caring that he is able to feel the tremble of WX-78's engines on his stomach. "You need to go back to your own ten—"

"VERY WELL."

Wilson feels the servos of WX-78 holding his own, violently jerking him towards the robot. Losing his footing, too tired to even try not to, Wilson's only thread holding him above the floor is the android that is holding him. Oh did it feel nice to have a cheek on a toasty warm plate. The ride wasn't over just yet. The genius senses an uncomfortable feeling of unstableness. WX-78 was dragging him down with him. Letting out a small squeak in surprise, Wilson finds himself landing on a cushioned floor. He landed on his own crumpled up sleeping bag, but underneath his, was another? Has WX-78 planned this and took his sleeping bag with him into his tent? 'Whatever', thought Wilson. This was the most comfortable he's been since his arrival into the demon's world. Placing his sleeping bag aside, he takes shelter in the crook of the android's neck, letting his arms droop to the yellow waist, and wasn't able to count a single sheep before falling asleep.

WX-78 uses his free arm not supporting his slumbering survival partner to adjust the sleeping bag to lean on, minimizing movement to not disturb Wilson. He takes Wilson's discarded sleeping bag and unwraps it, intending to use it as a blanket. The wrinkles won't be undone naturally, but what matters now is to attend to the little fleshing that he has grown fond of.


End file.
